Fishing Bridge Camp, northeast of West Thumb, was a rustic campground, with trees and aromas that spoke of the outdoors and the mountains. There was only one thing wrong with it, Penny discovered just after they started making an early dinner: bears.
The seventeenth bear they had seen since entering Yellowstone came ambling through the campground, obviously looking for food. Gary grabbed the pot on the stove and they retreated to the car.
No sooner had they started cooking again than bear number eighteen approached. He was headed for the car, itself, which cut them off from retreat. He put his paws on the front of it and peered into the open hood, which served as a storage area for the rear-engine VW. Gary banged on a pot to move him along. The bear walked away at a leisurely pace.
“Do you think we’re ever going to be able to eat our dinner?” Penny asked. “Or are the bears going to eat our dinner? They seem to think we’re running a restaurant here.”
Gary shrugged. “Eat fast and keep your eyes peeled.”
They did, and no more bears intruded on their repast. That afternoon they had driven north and enjoyed spectacular views of the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone, including the upper and lower falls. The multi-colored cliffs of the canyon and the ferocity of the dashing waterfalls showcased nature in all its beauty, along with the aura of constant danger.
It was still early when they finished eating. Not wanting to be outside in bear country and too pumped up from the sights of Yellowstone to go to bed, they drove back to see the canyon in the setting sun.
After Penny and Gary passed Alfred at West Thumb, he followed their car. He stayed some distance behind them until he verified that they were going to Fishing Bridge Camp. He had plenty of time to kill. He wouldn’t actually do anything until late tonight when everybody in the campground was asleep. He was getting smarter.
He drove along the park roads, glancing idly at a canyon and some waterfalls. It was pretty, but nothing to get excited about. Later, he stopped at the restaurant at Fishing Bridge and ate dinner there. He dawdled, drinking coffee, until after dark.
He was acquiring a lot of patience. Patience was a virtue. It would soon pay off for him. When the last orange glow of the sun had dropped behind the hills, he drove into the campground. There was no chance that they would spot him in the dark if he inadvertently drove past their campsite. They wouldn’t recognize the car.
He found a campsite for himself and parked the car there. Then he set out on foot to find their campsite. He wore his jacket with the hood up to keep warm. The moon was partly obscured by clouds and provided minimal light. He had found a flashlight in the glove compartment of the Falcon, but he only flicked it on occasionally to help him see into the depths of a campsite.
The easiest way to find their site in the dark was to spot the green VW. After a half hour of tramping around the campground, he hadn’t seen it. Had he covered the whole campground? Or had they decided not to camp here, after all? He leaned against a pine tree to rest and think.
A large black shape glided down the path. Alfred froze. It was a bear. Had it seen him? He tried not to breathe or do anything that would give himself away. The bear ambled along, taking its time. The way it walked, in a somewhat disjointed fashion, made it look clumsy, but there was no doubt about the strength of the muscles rippling under the brown fur. Alfred watched, scared and fascinated, as it disappeared into the dark. He was sweating, in spite of the cold.
It had been dark for some time when Gary and Penny returned to the campground. They parked the car at their campsite, got out their toilet articles, and cleaned their teeth at a restroom. They met in front of the building and started walking back to their campsite. Gary put up his arm to stop Penny. A bear walked by, not ten feet in front of them. They waited until the bear went on its way, and then returned to the tent.
Gary said, “Are you sleepy yet?”
“We could light the lantern and sit at the table, but it’s too cold to write postcards.”
“Let’s go for a walk. That will keep us warm.”
“What about the bears?”
“They haven’t hurt us yet. They’re only after food.”
“Okay, but if we turn out to be their food, it’s your fault.”
The existence of one bear meant that there were bound to be more. Alfred kept looking over his shoulder as he resumed his patrol through the campground. Bears were just another reason he didn’t like the outdoors. He stepped as lightly as he could, hoping they wouldn’t hear him. Hoping he would hear them first. He would be glad when he was safely back in Los Angeles.
It seemed like forever, but it was probably not more than another half hour before he spotted the Volkswagen. He surreptitiously shone the flashlight on it to make sure the car was the right color, because in the dark all cars looked black. He thought he had passed this way before, but it was hard to tell. All the campsites looked alike.
Quiet encompassed the campsite of Penny and Gary. They must be in the tent with their arms around each other. That picture infuriated him. He wouldn’t think of it. Concentrate on what had to be done, he told himself. It was dark at almost all the campsites, especially the ones with tents. Lights shone in a few of the camper shells that sat on the backs of pickup trucks, but not many people were outdoors in the cold. Still, he had better wait until everybody was asleep before he did what he had to do.
To pass some of the time until then, he would make sure he knew the route from here back to his car. He was getting tired of walking; in fact, he was getting downright exhausted, but he had to stay alert, and this was the best way to do it. It would soon be over.
CHAPTER 20
Midnight. This was the time he had agreed on with himself. The cautious part of him had argued that it would be better to wait until one or two in the morning, when absolutely nobody was awake, but he was too cold, too stiff, and too tired to wait any longer. The flashlight showed the hands of his watch coming together at the top of the dial. He stood up. It was time for action.
With this decision, his adrenalin started to flow faster. Gone was the cold. Gone was the tired feeling. It also stimulated his bladder, so he peed against a tree. As his pants became wet from flying spray, he discovered a cardinal rule of outdoor life: don’t piss into the wind. Now his pants were more soiled than they had been already.
He had been sitting in a grove of pine trees near their tent, staying away from the bears, getting up and moving from time to time to generate a little warmth in his body. During that period, no sound had come from the tent. They must be sleeping the sleep of the young and naive. Soon they would sleep forever.
A few cars had driven slowly past. Three had stopped and flashlights had been shone around the campsite from the cars-or maybe it was the same car each time. The trees surrounding Alfred blocked the light, keeping it from exposing him. He figured that a Park Service employee was checking to make sure Penny and Gary were all right. That meant people were looking for him. That was not good news.
Alfred swung his arms in circles to make sure they were operational. He lifted his feet and silently marched in place. He drew the hunting knife from its sheath under his jacket and practiced wielding it with his right hand. Holding the knife gave him a confidence he wouldn’t have felt without it. It was better than a gun, more reliable, as well as quieter and more efficient.